


Moomin and Snufkin At Sea

by singingfroggo



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: First Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingfroggo/pseuds/singingfroggo
Summary: "It was autumn in Moominvalley - for how else can spring come again?"But it seems that spring hasn't come for an eternity.Post-Moominpappa At Sea, but with the island setting! Moomee invites Snufkee to the island for a little catch up. Be patient oki itll be a slow ride
Relationships: Lilla My | Little My & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Muminmamman | Moominmamma & Mumintrollet | Moomintroll, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Lilla My | Little My, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Moomin and Snufkin At Sea

**Author's Note:**

> set after the ending of pappa at sea! im sorry i hv no idea how to write

It was slowly getting warmer. But to Moomin, it seemed that spring hadn’t come for a long, long time. 

Pappa was spending less time fishing, and more time dining. Mamma was spending less time painting the faraway joys of Moominhouse and more time collecting shells and other treasures the shore brought. Little My was spending less time destroying other small creatures and more time doing quite literally anything else. The island seemed less grey than it used to, seemed less empty too. Like a resistant weed, life grew out of the island’s barren land. The lighthouse keeper was working again, fuelling a small but bright light; flickering across the deep, dark sea. 

And yet, everything still felt so cold. Warmer, yes, but only warmer in the sense that you are warmer because you wore a scarf in winter. It was a far cry from the days Moomin and his friends used to spend in the valley, playing rambunctiously without a care in the world and lazily snoozing as the sun tickled their feet. 

The sun seemed so far away. 

Moomin recalled the times he had on the island thus far. His memory seemed like a never ending expanse of grey, so much so that he had trouble differentiating the days from one another. They blended into each other like a monotone mess. He remembered looking for the mean seafillies he was so infatuated with, only to draw the Groke closer. Little dances with loneliness that never really ended. 

Moomin wondered what was different. Too many things for his taste, actually. Too many things to name, to think about. He closed his eyes and flopped down on the cool rock he was sitting on. 

The sun. The valley. The house. The flowers, the fertile land. Sniff, Snorkmaiden, Snork, all the little creatures that would roam the valley or rested in crooks and crannies. Snufkin. 

Snufkin. He hadn’t crossed Moomin’s mind for the longest time, oddly. At first, he tried to avoid thinking about him; it hurt too much, as usual. And then eventually he found himself thinking about him less and less, falling in love with other strange and wonderful creatures. And then he started not to think about him at all, but occasionally he’d pop up in his mind, like a weird cloud surfing slowly across the sky. Sometimes he’d dream about him, in fragments he’d forget as soon as he woke up. 

Moomin realised he truly did miss Snufkin. It wasn’t like the outbursts he had when they were younger, instead it was a gnawing longing at the back of his head. 

After all this time, Moomin had a bright idea. He had his doubts, but his hope snuffed them out. Would Snufkin even get the letter? He was a wanderer, never tied to one place. Would he even respond? It had been such a long time. And above all, would it even be the same? That didn’t really matter now, because at least he could try. Abruptly getting to his feet and scrambling to the top of the lighthouse to find a pen and paper, he began to write a letter to his old friend. 

Moomin tapped the pen against one of his fluffy cheeks. He went through his mental checklist. Keep it short, simple and to the point. Don’t come across as desperate or overly attached. Hesitantly, but deliberately, he began to write. 

_“Dear Snufkin,_

_Pappa and Mamma and I have settled on the island.  
Visit sometime, if you’d like? _

_Moomin”_

Moomin wished he could ramble and catch up with Snufkin instead of barely writing two sentences. But some things must be sacrificed, he guessed. He found Mamma in the makeshift kitchen and nudged her. 

“Mamma, Mamma, I’d like to send a letter.” Moomin cried. 

Moominmamma stared at him for a while. She hadn’t seen him this enthusiastic in a while. That bright spark in his eye seemed to have been fizzled out by the oppressive grays of the island a long time ago. 

“Of course, dear.” Moominmamma gently took the letter from his paw and sent it off to Moominvalley by seagull.

**Author's Note:**

> patience the snufmin comes later ok!! stick around


End file.
